Reviving Marie
by CourtneyHowlett
Summary: Logan's left her again for the road. He'd said he'd needed some time to think. Not that she cares. Not that it mattered. Maybe she needed some time to think too. Rogan smut; a mysterious man at a bar, a cabin in the woods, tangled limbs by the fireplace, and a diary of utterly private thoughts.


**A/N: Wrote this up quickly to let you all know that I'm not dead! In this fic, Marie/Rogue has the ability to control her mutation. Enjoy and please leave a review for little old me!**

**Rated M for language, dialogue, and sexual content. **

**Italics are Rogue's thoughts.**

**Reviving Marie**

It's been months since Logan had left Rogue for the road. He said that he needed some time to think. Not that it mattered. Not that she cared.

Rogue has Bobby. Rogue has Scott and Gambit. But no amount of friendliness, guidance, or flirtation can keep her mind off of the one thing she desires most.

A constant reminder of him hangs loosely around her neck. Rogue clutches the silver dog-tag, eyes skimming over the words imprinted into the metal. _Wolverine. _

She imagines Logan coming back to Xavier's Academy with a newly set mind. She imagines him forgetting about Jean and putting all of his attention onto her. Rogue sighs and shuts her eyes, trying desperately to envision it. She knows Logan will never love her.

_I'm too young. I could be his daughter. I'm just a burden to him._

The thoughts swirl around in her mind, silently tormenting her. She thinks of him with a woman more suitable for his age and cringes. She thinks of another inside of his warm embrace, another feeling his warm smile, and another riding carelessly on the back of his motorcycle. It's like a bullet to the heart.

_He wants someone mature. He wants someone who's experienced. He wants Jean._

The timer buzzes and breaks her from her train of thoughts. Pulling on her white apron, she drifts to the bar to take the other worker's place. A man sits at the counter with his wallet out in front of him.

"Hi, sugah. What can I get ya?" Rogue asks in her sweet southern-drawl. The man wears a baseball cap and sunglasses, shielding his face from her eyes.

"Beer," came the man's gruff reply. He flicks a ten-dollar bill her way, never looking up to meet her eyes.

Rogue cocks her head, trying to get a better look at the man sitting in front of her. She can't tell if she knows him or not.

"Beer," he grunts a little louder.

"Gawd, I'm sorry sir…" Rogue replies, shaking her head. She turns around and flees into the kitchen to fetch a mug of beer. She returns, sliding the iced mug across the countertop.

"Been havin' a bad day, eh?" the man asks, taking the drink.

Rogue blinks, sitting down on her leather bar stool. "These bad days, uh…they been happenin' a lot more often."

The man takes a sip, peering at her through his black aviators. He leans forward onto the counter, "You wanna spill?"

"Oh, ya don't have to do that for me." Rogue dismisses him with the flick of her hand.

"Really…I ain't got nothin' better to do."

Sighing, she pops open a wine bottle and takes a swig. The man watches intently, almost surprised at the young girl's blunt action. "There's this man…" Rogue begins, swallowing the bitter liquid. She's glad that someone will listen. "He…he drives me insane. To the point where I don't think I can take it any more."

"Gee, he sounds charming." Rogue can sense the pure sarcasm in the man's voice; she chuckles in return.

"He's always on the road…travelin' and seein' sights while I'm here at the ol' bar waitin' for him to come on home. Sir, he just up and leaves me without a note on the fridge. Later someone else tells me that he told them that he needed some space. He don't even got the guts to tell me himself. He don't know how much I care, or how much I worry myself sick 'bout him."

"Maybe he got a reason," the man suggests. "You know, to leave."

"A reason?" She laughs and takes another swig of wine right from the bottle. "I'm startin' to think he just don't care any more." Rogue groaned. "He loves another woman and I'm too young to say a damn thing 'bout it. It's so frustrating tryin' to tell someone ya love them when ya know that it ain't gon' work out between ya."

"I know." He speaks quietly.

"It's tragic. Why can't people love who they love?" Rogue drones on, rolling her eyes.

"Sometimes it just don't work out like that. Sometimes people gotta step away…for the other person's own good—"

"Would you leave me, sir?" Rogue blurts, cutting him off in mid-sentence. "If I was your girl, would ya leave me?" The man looks up at her, swallowing down the sip of beer that he feels tempted to spit out. He glances up at her, making eye content for a brief moment.

"No," is his calm reply. "I think you might be too precious a jewel to barter off."

Rogue gives a weak smile. "Thank ya, sir," she sniffs. Taking his empty mug, she refills it with the brown liquid. The man mumbles something that she finds to be intelligible from the place where she stood.

"What did ya say? I didn't hear ya," Rogue replies, handing him the mug.

"Don't give up on him…this guy, you know." The man tilts his head back, gulping down five sips of the beer.

"Why shouldn't I, sugah?" she asks, placing her hands on her hips.

"I think that he loves you, but he can't find a way to tell you." The man hangs his head low, never daring to look her in the eye.

"How would you know that?" she asks, beginning to become suspicious about who this man really was.

"Sometimes people just have this gut feeling, kid." The man replies to her question as if it were a no-brainer.

She gasps when she hears the last word fall from her lips. Only one person calls her "kid." Only one person wears black aviators. Only one person drinks mug after mug of ice-cold beer.

"Who are you?" Rogue questions, leaning forward over the counter. The man leans back, feeling cornered from her sudden change in position. The scent of cigar smoke and fresh pine invades her nostrils. Rogue had sworn that she would never forget that fresh, masculine aroma.

The man slides his bar stool back a couple inches. "Names ain't important…" he mutters, breaking eye contact with her.

"Why won't you look at me?" she asks.

The man shifts in his seat, feeling uncomfortable. Looking towards the clock, he decides it's time to leave. "Listen, I gotta run. It's getting late." Rogue frowns at him.

As the man hastily makes his way out of the bar, she catches up to him. Pulling at his arm, she snatches off his glasses and cap. Gasping, "I knew it was you!" Tears sparkling at her eyes, she begins to cry. "I knew it."

Defeated and caught, the great Wolverine turns and clasps her to his chest. "Don't…don't do that. Don't you cry for me, darlin'. I ain't worth cryin'."

"Why are you hiding from me?" she sobs.

"It's better for both of us this way." Logan mumbles.

Growling, "Bullshit." She balls her hands into fists and clenches her teeth together in anger.

"Darlin', you're young. You're 21…you got your whole life ahead of you. You don't need someone like me keepin' you behind." Logan tries to reason with her, but she refuses to listen. Instead she clutches him to her body and buries herself in his strong, masculine arms.

"Ya know what I need, Logan?" Rogue looks up at him, eyes still glittering from her tears. He looked down at her, afraid to answer. "I need you." She quickly unties her apron and lets it drop to the floor.

She follows him outside to his motorcycle. "Where do you wanna go, kid?" Logan questions.

Rogue hops onto the back of the bike, strapping on her helmet. "I don't care. Just go somewhere."

**0o0o0o0o**

"So this is where you been stayin'." Rogue walks around the little wooden cabin, inspecting the rooms. _The cabin is trash,_ she thinks to herself. There were rips in the sofa, a scuffed and muddy floor, and a crappy table with only three chairs. _At least have the decency to buy another chair._ She shakes her head. He sits down by the fireplace on his ripped sofa.

"I rented this dump for a hundred bucks. What do you expect from it?" Logan lights his cigar and puffs out a breath of curling smoke. Rogue frowns.

"The school is so much more…fit for living. Why do ya choose campin' out here in this garage when you can have a nice, warm room?" She opens the refrigerator and frowns again. "And some good food."

"Well, my 'garage' is a place where I can camp out away from douches like Scott and temptations like…" Logan trails off, realizing what he was about to say.

"Go ahead and say it, Logan. I know well that you love her." Rogue's eyes glow with anger.

"I don't love her." He protests.

"Right. That's why you were going to say 'temptations like Jean'." Rogue snapped, her eyes threatening herself with a torrential downpour of tears. Logan chuckles, putting his lips to the cigar.

"You go on and think what you want, kid." He lets wisps of smoke fall out of his mouth, winding like a smoke dragon in the cold nighttime air.

Rogue stares blankly at the crackling fireplace and swallows the lump in her throat. "You make me feel like I'm a burden," she whispers sullenly.

"You're not a burden, darlin'," Logan assures her softly. He looks back at her standing at the doorway to the bedroom.

"You're always goin' out of your way to save my ass from ma own mistakes," Rogue growls at him. He shifts on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees.

"It's what I do…I care about you more than anything. If anything happened to you…I dunno what I'd do." Logan's sincere brown eyes catch her gaze and make it impossible for her to look away. "You know I love you, kid."

Rogue stayed silent for an agonizingly slow minute. "Fuck you," she whispers. Logan raises his brows and watches as she bursts into tears once more.

He puffs again, before smothering the cigar's flame on his palm. He winces from the slight pain, but it disappears as quickly as it came. Standing in front of her menacingly, he advances on her. She buries her head in her hands, leaning against the wall.

He pulls at her wrists, but she pulls away from him. "Rogue," he rasps, gently prying her hands away from her face. She knows well that he's much stronger than her. Her tears make her mascara run down her cheeks in dirty, black streaks.

Logan reaches out for her, but she shies away from his touch. "I hate it when you say those things," she chokes out.

"You hate when I say 'I love you'?" He cocks a brow, confused.

"You wouldn't understand," she snaps.

"I think I do," he retorts. She looks at him with her makeup stained eyes. "You're feeling…unloved because of my stupid lil' affair with Jean. But let me ask you a question, Rogue. How do you know I don't love you like I know you love me?"

_What, did he inherit Jean's telepathic abilities from having sex with her? Is it like a mutant STD or something? Why is everyone so goddamned telepathic?!_

"You're mockin' me." Rogue growls, another dirty tear streaking down her cheek.

"No, darlin', I'm not mockin' you." Logan protests. Not believing a word he says, she pounds him with her tiny fists. He tries to contain his laughter due to her feeble attempt to attack him. He lets her pass. Rogue headed towards the door of the cabin when she felt herself slip and fall on the frayed end of the beer stained rug.

Closing her eyes and preparing herself to hit the floor, she waited. And waited. And waited.

_What is this fucking place, an abyss?_

She looks up at him, his deep chocolate eyes locked on her eyes, lips lingering closer to her flesh than ever before. "You make me feel so empty and broken sometimes." Rogue murmurs lifelessly.

His eyes never leave hers, burning deep, hot holes into her body. "Alright, darlin'," he whispers. "Tell me what you want, and I'll do it."

She blinks and wets her dry lips with her tongue. "Revive me."

Those two words were all he needed. He kisses her neck, dragging his lips along the creamy white flesh until he reached her trembling lips. Logan's lips move against hers in a way that makes her knees feel weak. His tongue flickers out to slide across her bottom lip. Rogue moans as he fists her long brown locks in his hand.

Logan's eyes darken as the scent of her arousal fills his nostrils. He inhales her sweet aroma and growls when the Wolverine inside of him demands that he claim.

Rogue breaks away from the kiss and walks away from him. For a split second Logan's heart cracks and sinks deep into his chest. But the liquid fire that burns in his veins quickly returns as she waits at the couch for him. He quickly sits down on the sofa, his pupils blown so large that Rogue can hardly see the chocolate color of his irises.

Grasping her waist, he pulls her onto the couch and slowly crawls up her body. Logan could already feel his feral senses kicking in, the Wolverine taking over his control. He gently nudges her legs apart with the palm of his hands, and fits himself over top of her.

He grabs her shoulders none too gently as he kisses the valley between her breasts. She winds her fingers through his mane of hair, moaning as he gropes her. He growls and rubs the pad of his thumb over the perk of her nipple.

"I think," Logan begins. "That I should reward you for being such a good girl while I was gone."

Rogue moans, lust filling her heart. Sprouting a single claw, he makes a clean cut from the neck of her shirt to the bottoms of her jeans. She gasps as he pushes the ruined clothes to the side, revealing her naked skin. He lowers his head and swipes his tongue around her rosy nipple.

"Logan!" she breathes. "Be careful."

"You can control your mutation. Baby, I know you can." Logan purrs.

_From 'kid' to 'darlin' to 'baby'…we're makin' progress here._ She thinks.

He takes her nipple back into his mouth, gently biting down. Rogue cries out in shock, but his lips encase the noise. His hand moves down to the junction of her thighs, his fingers pushing into her core. The Wolverine roars inside of Logan as he feels her arousal pour out onto his hand. He adds another digit, watching as Rogue arches her back in pleasure.

His fingers thrust in and out of her core, each time the pleasure building.

"Say ma name, please, Logan," she manages to choke through her pleasure.

"Rogue," he whispers.

"No…ma real…name…" she corrects.

He pressed his fingers on her sweet spot once more, this time making Rogue come in his arms.

"Marie."

She moans loudly and bites her lip as her body convulses and spasm around his fingers.

He crawls back up her body to claim her lips once more. Rogue's sweaty fingers fumble at his belt, releasing his hard erection. She takes him into her hand, fisting his member. Logan's breath catches in his throat and his eyes widen in both shock and pleasure.

He swallows the lump in his throat before groaning softly. Rogue smiled up at him, pleased that he was pleased.

Logan knew that he wouldn't last long when Rogue took the head of his arousal into her mouth. She sucked, hollowing her cheeks.

"Oh God…Christ, Marie!" He shoves his hands into her hair, his head thrown back in pleasure. She nips and sucks, rubbing her hand softly on the underside of his erection. Those little things she does are enough to send him over the edge.

"Jesus fucking Christ…baby I won't last long if you keep…God…if you keep that up." Logan reluctantly pulls away, his body sweaty from lust. Rogue kicks off what was left of her shredded clothes. She walks to the bedroom, voluptuous hips swaying with each step she took.

The Wolverine practically howls at Logan to follow her. She seductively looked back at him and gave him her most beckoning smile. "You like me nekkid, sugah?"

He growls in response. Following her into the bedroom, "Mmm, baby. I love the view."

**0o0o0o0o**

"Did I do everything you wished?" Logan asks, stroking her sweaty hair.

"What are ya talkin' 'bout?" She looks up at him in confusion.

He chuckles, remembering two days ago when he went looking for her and happened to stop by her room.

"I read your diary," he grunts.

"You…you what?" Rogue feels tempted to get out of bed and get dressed; steal his motorcycle and lock the cabin door behind her.

"Last night…was it perfect? Yeah, it was wasn't it…? Well, your private thoughts told me what to do, darlin'." He kisses her forehead and laughs.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you to mind your business?" she asks, trying not to laugh out of embarrassment. "…What did you read?"

"Everything, darlin'. '_I wish Logan would take meh into his arms and make love to meh…like in that movie Titanic. Maybe we could do it in his car or on the motorcycle he stole from Scott. But ah wouldn't want him to paint a nekkid picture of meh…perhaps with a bit of persuasion ah wouldn't mind too much." _Logan repeats one of the entries he'd read.

Rogue shakes her head, hiding her eyes from him. "Didn't anyone ever tell you to mind your own _goddamned_ business?" she repeats. Logan gives her the pleasure of hearing one of his genuine, hearty laughs. She tries not to smile at him, but fails.

"Really, _beautiful_, I didn't mind. Actually, I was pretty flattered you'd felt that way for me. You're pretty _sexy_ yourself."

_Gawd, he really did read everything._

For the first time in months since Logan has left her at Xavier's Academy, she bursts out into a fit bubbly laughter. He chuckles.

Out of the blue, he sits up with a serious expression on his face. "And when we get back to the school, you're either telling that 'Gambit' person to back the hell off or he's gonna get a fuckin' adamantium fist in his pretty boy face."

She smiled. _Logan's back…and I think he's here to stay._

"I see him touchin' you and feelin' you up, his head's gonna be bent back so far up into his ass—"

"I don't think you'll have to worry about Gambit, sugah. Remember whose I am." Rogue rubs lazy circles on his chest.

"Mine?" he growls.

"Mmm. Yours."


End file.
